requiem for a memoir :::
by SpazKit
Summary: The mainframe is all powerful, all knowing. The mainframe doesn't see her. And she can't see herself. Her touch will infect an agent and change everything anyone ever knew about AI...
1. prolog

I own nothing. I just play.  
  
-Spaz  
  
____________________________  
  
requiem for a memoir  
  
____________________________  
  
Prolog  
  
  
  
  
  
// hangdrip.cpp : Defines the entry point // for the console application. // //RIFF48, RIFF4Z //////////////////////////////////////// ////////////////////////////// // Includes #include stdio.h #include tchar.h //////////////////////////////////////// ////////////////////////////// // Function Declarations void Usage(void); bool DoRip(const char *pFileName); //////////////////////////////////////// ////////////////////////////// // Some Vars const char Names[]="agricor.wav"; const char pFileName[] = "English.bin"; //////////////////////////////////////// ////////////////////////////// //Main() int _tmain(int argc, char* argv[])  
  
{  
  
#ifdef _DEBUG DoRip(pFileName); #endif Usage();  
  
return 0; } //////////////////////////////////////// ////////////////////////////// // Usage() void Usage(void)  
  
Void...  
  
It was raining again.  
  
Void...  
  
Her fingers rested immobile on the keyboard. Darkened eyes closed to darkness. She wasn't sure why, but it was a blessing.  
  
A sigh escaped a pair of frozen lips. Well, not really frozen. Numbed, yes, mostly by the outstanding amount of alcohol that burned her blood. Pity, it didn't provide the supposed bliss that she watched others fade to when drunk. If anything, she just sobered more with each drink, each sound echoing across a hollow arc of thought, each raindrop thudding a rhythm in her mind.  
  
Blinking, she stared at the screen for a moment, then at her immobile fingers. Perhaps it was past time to finish this work. She could do it in the morning. When her mind wasn't fogged with oppressing philosophical theories and drink.  
  
She stood shakily, her head spinning. Not quite nimble, her steps carried her to the windowed door that exposed her bloodshot eyes to the outside world. Droplets of rain crashed into the clear pane, as if attempting to attack her skin itself, only to bounce off the glass to the ground far below. She swallowed, and opened her old patio doors, stepping into the rain. The water did not wet her skin, or perhaps she just couldn't feel it.  
  
On the second story of the middle-lower class apartments that housed her, she stood barefoot on the grated patio, her view that of a dark alley. The rain slicked her short blond hair, matting the gold to her head. Why was she out here again? Any particular reason? No. Not really. Then again, as of late, nothing was done for a particular reason. She did her work. She kept a job. She made money, even though her newly deceased family provided plenty of funding. She had a car. She had a few friends.  
  
That was her. life. A life she led the same way every day. just like everyone else. She twitched slightly, her train of thought immediately and automatically diverting away from such thoughts. Her attentions were taken by what sounded like. running footsteps in the distance. She squinted.  
  
A lone flickering streetlight cast a shadow of a rapidly approaching man. Or so she thought. Yes. It had to be, she could hear his frantic breathing. Stupid, she thought, her heavy eyelids falling closed for a moment. This alley was a dead end.  
  
The man must be running from something. Yes, two men. Maybe men. She couldn't see to well in the rain, and the thunder nearly took the sound of pounding feet from her ears.  
  
However, the loud scream of gunfire rocketed across her unprepared eardrums, rattling her mind and she jolted from shock. Startled, she gasped, grasping the iron rail.  
  
Movements blurred, she thought she saw the man run into her alley, and then there was more insane firing of guns. It was surreal. Then, there was silence.  
  
Heart pounding, she lurched forward. There were the two men, staring at what had to be the body. Her stomach churned, bile coming up to her throat. She swallowed.  
  
How a swallow could alert a man fifty some feet away, she didn't know, but she saw his head turn in her direction. She stumbled backwards, back inside her home. Sanctuary. Away from the sudden moment of madness that seemed to appear out of bloody nowhere. Shaking her head in denial and disbelief, she tried to calm her erratic breathing and pressed herself firmly against the interior wall beside the still open patio door. She sat there, shivering and praying that if she closed her eyes, it would go away.  
  
  
  
The shorter man knelt, taking the pulse of the now-deceased resistant. Behind the two, the taller man scowled, touching a hand to his soaked suit. He replaced his Desert Eagle in his jacket as the shorter man stood up, nodding. A spark of satisfaction lit both men. Had they been human, perhaps they would have smiled in accomplishment.  
  
As they turned to leave, the taller one paused, something whispering to his consciousness, like. a new code ghosting across his own interface. At first, he thought it to be the mainframe sending data through his earpiece, but after touching a slick finger to his ear, the equipment was silent. Squinting behind dark glasses, he turned, his eyes scanning the immediate area. A flicker of movement caught his eye from above.  
  
"What is it?" the shorter one asked, words slow and melodic.  
  
"I saw something," he replied in a deeper voice, again touching his earpiece. The other tapped in to find his superior requesting information on residents of the houses and apartments that lined the buildings around them. Data streamed through their minds.  
  
"If so, we will be required to erase the witnesses memory."  
  
"I know," He answered, listening. The home above belonged to an Anna Incarus, a nineteen-year-old programmer for a small anti-viral software firm nestled within the city. He blinked, waiting as raindrops trickled through his hair and down his nose, some choosing to race across his sculpted eyebrows while others climbed down his chin. His eyes were trained on the building, inhuman as they stared motionless at what could be perceived as another task to take care of.  
  
However, the mainframe informed him that no human was currently within the household, and all others in the area were not conscious of the agent's actions. Smith and Brown were to return to base for further data on the next target for investigation.  
  
Smith frowned, and sent his report to Brown beside him without so much as a word. He could have sworn he saw movement. but he would not question the mainframe. Nothing could exist in the Matrix without it's knowing, and therefor it was he who must he in error.  
  
The two agents departed.  
  
  
  
A few hours later, a stiff-necked Anna awoke with a mind boggling headache and a sore body. The girl winced, rolling her shoulders. Why in the world had she fallen asleep against. a wall? And damn it, the open patio door was a flashing light to thugs. God. Groaning in protest, she stood shakily, and made her way to her bed, with the help of the walls for support. As she collapsed, one last thought flickered in her mind: I have got to cut down on the caffeine. My dreams just keep getting weirder and weirder. 


	2. chapter 1

Chapter one  
  
  
  
(three months later)  
  
Friggin' A.  
  
A moan emerged from beneath a heap of tousled stripped sheets, a hand flailing out blindly towards the right of a precariously piled stash of aspirin bottles. Muddled fingers found their mark and ended the shrieking of an elderly alarm clock that looked out over the bed. Anna groaned, not even bothering to open her eyes.  
  
Really. This whole plan to become an alcoholic really sucked. Mostly because of a little thing called hangovers.  
  
Sheets flew, and a disgruntled bleached blond forged a path towards the bathroom. Not bothering to glance in the cracked mirror, she stripped and stumbled into the shower. A small compact body slid down the wall of the stall, coming to rest at the end of a warm spray of water. Risking more pain, she blearily opened her eyes. She hadn't turned on the overhead upon entering the small bathroom, so the only source of light trickled in from the street lamp below her bedroom window. The room was very dark, and felt hollow. She closed her eyes.  
  
She stayed prone until her mind prodded her to take action. She washed her short thick hair briefly, taking no pleasure in the action. Rinsed and relatively clean, she exited and dried herself.  
  
It was 6:35am. And life looked just as it did seven hours ago before she passed out. Come to think of it, life had looked the same for quite a while now.  
  
"Stop it," she hissed, tossing on dark slacks and a worn scarlet dress shirt. She would prefer to keep her mind pleasantly blank, and she tried to do so as she headed out the door. She stepped out onto a dank and damp rail stairway. Glancing down at the street below, a few cars traveled the lonely path of the darkened alleyway that served as a driveway to her home. Well... more an attic than a home, but hell, home was where the heart was.  
  
She snickered, her feet making little noise as she made her way down the metal stairway to the ground some forty feet below. She stopped suddenly, hand gripped the steal banister firmly.  
  
Flashing of color and /pain/ -  
  
  
  
Anna blinked rapidly, gritting her teeth. This was not the hangover. This was probably some dammed /brain tumor/ or something, cause these headaches, fast, fiery and agonizing, were happening all the more frequently. But for fuck's sake, having bloody visions of dancing fairies while walking out to her car?  
  
Christ. Time to see a doctor. Why the hell not. She had the money. Shaking her head, she quickly made her way downstairs to the street and clambered into her old ford.  
  
Its bad when one does not remember car rides. Per say, its quite bad when one second you're in your car, starting the engine and the next second, you're parked outside your workplace. Probably not a good thing. One day, she was going to kill someone blanking out like that. It wasn't anything abnormal. She just. faded out when she drove.  
  
Shrugging on a dress coat, she stepped out into the world. The sun had yet to show, mostly hidden from the towering buildings and still cloud-covered sky. Her building wasn't one of the largest, a simple software firm that stayed in it's place by supplying anti-virus protection programs and some simple application things. She did her job. She got paid. End of story there.  
  
The elevator was actually quite fast in seeing to her needs this morning, and she stepped on in relative quiet.  
  
The ride was uneventful. Glancing down, she gripped her briefcase tightly. Fortunately, prior to the point of no return, when things went numb, she'd saved her charts and progress report to a disk that rested snugly in her case. Well, that was encouraging. It was nice to keep her job. Actually the work was. bland. A dull cubicle among a hundred just like it. In a world with a million people, all a like.  
  
She needed to get out more or something. This world was so damn depressing.  
  
The elevator door gave a pacified beep, and she stepped into the wonderful world of office work. She straightened her shirt and made her way to her cubical. It was quiet today. more so than usual. Quirking an eyebrow, Anne glanced around, and noted how everyone remained intensely focused in their work, staring holes in their pcs.  
  
Strange.  
  
Her cubical was stark, like all the others. A small Polaroid of her father was scotch taped to her file cabinets and an empty coffee mug rested beside her monitor. She sat heavily, turned on her pc and tried to looked behind her without really looking. There was nothing. No talking, no motion. It was damn creepy.  
  
Risking unspoken death, she stood while her computer began to boot up. Frowning, she stepped next door, slithering into her friend and college's cubical.  
  
"Hey, Matt. What's going on?" She asked in a hushed voice, hunching low in the tiny square office, though she was short enough to where she really didn't need to.  
  
Matt was a vet in the company, a twenty-seven year old computer programmer and a ULCA grad. More importantly, he was a close friend with a soft sense of human, and honestly, damn good looks. He looked away from his screen, his dark gray eyes softening at her approach.  
  
"Hey there, almost birthday girl," he said quietly, his low voice barely a rumble.  
  
Anna smiled sheepishly, not expecting him to remember.  
  
"Well, It's still a day or two away, but hey. What's going on?" She asked, her green eyes flashing upwards briefly as she rubbed her shoulders.  
  
"Ah." Matt replied, waving a hand outwards. "A bunch of Feds' showed up earlier today. They're talking to the boss in his office. It's kinda. no, /they're/ kinda creepy," he explained, sipping a diet coke and stabbing a single finger at his keyboard. "We dunno what's going on. Whatever it is, it must be big to bring the suit guys in." He chuckled, weeding through his email. "Go back to your pc, let me send you this article on this joke, it's funny." Matt grinned, scratching at his perfectly tripped dark sideburns.  
  
Anne rolled her eyes, but for some reason the movement sparked a headache. She winced, getting back into her chair and entering her passwords to gain access to the network. She closed her eyes, a sudden pang of her headache throbbing painfully before receding again into the recess of her consciousness. She reached for a bottle of aspirin that lay in her desk drawn. She dry swallowed them just as the boss's office door opened.  
  
Many pairs of eyes peered from behind cubical walls and copy machine rooms. Anna opened her eyes and glanced behind her, listening and watching.  
  
Oh, shit. It was Michael.  
  
Michael was another good friend, a writer, a journalist for the firm. Another handsome young man that had graced her with is quiet friendship, she winced in sadness when he was escorted out of the room by two suited men.  
  
Aww, hell. What did he do? He looked like hell, disheveled and his glasses quirked on his slender nose. Anna adverted her gaze as the troop marched passed her, and turned when she thought they were past only to find more coming. A fed, a tall one with dark hair turned as he passed, catching her gaze. Light passed through his glasses as he seemed to move in slow motion. She sat, frozen, as his ice blue eyes held her own. Through her headache, she thought, she could swear -  
  
She jammed her eyes shut, trying to either forget or remember, she didn't know which. Her body leaned forward and her fingers touched her head.  
  
She grunted softly, opening her eyes to find the man standing in her office. Some part of her brain reacted and she stiffened, suddenly incredibly uncomfortable. The man was far taller than even her cubicle wall, his stare unnerving and his poster radiating hostility. God, where had she seen him before? Surely she would have remembered.  
  
His lips twitched upwards into what appeared to be a sneer from her sitting position. Her back pressed against her chair as she tried to recoil.  
  
"Have we. met?" He asked in a slow almost inhuman monotone. From her vantage point, she could see his eyes, the irises boring into her head.  
  
She would have tried to answer, in whatever meek voice she could manage, but a blinding white flash of pain flashed before her eyes. A choked squeak escaped her throat.  
  
Matt heard the soft noise, his ear pressed up against the wall. He stood quickly, and after a hesitant breath, shoved the fed aside. His eyes widened at Anna's pained expression, her hand clutching her head.  
  
"Anna!" He hissed, his hands coming up to her shoulders and squeezing. She gasped, eyes flying open. Confused crossed her face, her eyes moving from the blurry man behind a crouching Matt.  
  
"What is it, Anna? What's wrong?" He asked, fingers pressing into her red shirt. Behind him, the fed remained expressionless, but apparently interested in the ordeal. Matt swallowed, trying to keep his poster lax and normal.  
  
He had to get out of there. And get her out of there now. This was about as dangerous a situation as there could be.  
  
Without another word, he scooped her up and tried to calm his racing heart, catching the Agent right in the eyes with his own as he walked past, into the hall. The Agent's gaze pierced Matt's back as they departed. Frowning, Smith followed after his subordinates, and downstairs. The tall Agent exited the elevator just in time to see the virus "Matthew Williams" gently tuck the girl into a car and drive off, but not before glaring as the man cast Smith one last look.  
  
Jones was waiting for him by the sedan, with Michael N. Kinh secured in the back seat.  
  
"Brown is waiting for us, and is setting up for interrogation," Jones informed Smith, both standing beside the car, while Michael glanced up at them from the seat. He swallowed and prayed he would have a quick death. Perhaps Smith picked up on his expression, for the man looked down against the reflection and sneered at the resistant.  
  
The Agents departed with their hostage.  
  
  
  
5:42pm Wood County Hospital  
  
Anna groaned.  
  
Wincing, she opened her eyes to a bright light. And noise.  
  
"Anna?" A soft, low voice asked. She blinked, turning her head to one side. Oh. She was lying down. When the hell had that happened?  
  
"Matt? What's going on?" She asked, leaning forward. She glanced down, thankful to be in her own clothing. She gathered that she was in a doctor's office or something of that nature. Question was, how did she get there? Lord. She was having really messed up memory problems lately.  
  
"Thank god. I was so worried. You've been out for hours, though we don't know why. Doctors did lots of tests, blood tests, physical tests. the results aren't back yet," Matt explained, his eyes glancing warily about the single room. "Look. I have got to get you out of here. Now. There are things. we need to talk about and I think we're running out of time."  
  
She frowned, noting the intensity in her friend's voice. "Alright," She said slowly, leaning forwards. "I'm assuming you're going to tell me what happened as soon as we leave, right?" She asked, shakily swinging her legs over the bedside.  
  
"I promise. But so much. just shit. is going on right now. And it's just not safe here. We need to go, now," the twitchy programmer insisted, grasping her arms and helping the disheveled girl to her feet. Her feet hit the floor ungracefully and she squinted.  
  
"What's wrong with you, Anna?" Matt murmured as he helped her to her feet.  
  
"Real honestly? I have not a clue. I just. thought they were headaches," Anna insisted, following behind the taller man as they escaped the hospital room. The pair tried to look inconspicuous as they stealthily sneaked past the nurses desk.  
  
"Well we don't have time to figure it out now," he said lowly, stepping forward.  
  
"Why are we being so discreet again?" She whispered to his back, glancing around and then finding her reflection in a mirror on the wall. Oh wow. Her hair was sticking up in like ninety directions. That's attractive. She made a disgusted face as they jogged past.  
  
"You'll see," Matt murmured as he took her arm, suddenly burying her face into his chest as they passed dozens of people in the waiting room. She yelped into his ribs but he squeezed her shoulder, trying to silence her protests. Once safely out the sliding doors and onto the street, he released her and she gasped for breath.  
  
"Well," She breathed, "You smell good." Looking around as they hurried down the dark damp street, she was disoriented by the night. Last she's known she was just heading into work.  
  
"Hey. Do you think I'm fired?" Anna asked, thankful for her comfortable dark sneaker-shoes as she scampered behind the jogging Matthew.  
  
"I wouldn't worry about it."  
  
She quirked an eyebrow. It wasn't like him to be unconcerned with her job. Usually the programmer was like a guardian angle, or hawk, either one. He was always helping her out and watching out for her. He was all that had stood between despair and life when her father died.  
  
"Hey, we need to start talking," the programmer suggested, taking her arm as they walked.  
  
"Ok," Anna said, allowing her arm to be snared. The night air was chilly, and he was warm, his soft leather jacket warm against her hand.  
  
"I know you're friends with Michael. Actually, Michael and I are close colleges."  
  
She gave him a funny look. "Um... I know that. I work with you, remember?"  
  
He smiled, his eyes warm. "Moreso than you realize." The sparkle left his eyes and his face grew grim in the faint light. "I. I fear we may never see him again."  
  
"What?!" Anna cried, stopping short and spinning around.  
  
"Sshhhh, I know, I know," Matt soothed, his own expression deadly serious. "And I am in grave danger as well. I need to get out of here, and. I want you to come too."  
  
"What the hell are you talking about!? And why the fuck are you so damn blasé about our friend being /dead/!? And how did he die? What the hell is going on here, Matthew?" Anne gushed, face flushed in a mixture of unpleasant emotions.  
  
They stopped their stumbling run and the taller man pulled her aside, into a darkened ally. Steam rose from manholes around them, chilling in the night air and pocketing them in a bubble that didn't seem to be a part of reality.  
  
"Anna. there is so much I want to tell you. I wish. I wish we could have figured out how to contact you before now, tell you all of this."  
  
"I've been right here, Matt, right next to you every day-"  
  
"No," he breathed, "That's not what I meant. Something's going on with you. something very odd. We've never seen anything like it within the matrix-"  
  
"The what?"  
  
Matt shook his head. "There's no time to explain right now. I just. I need to get out. They'll find me soon. I want you to come with me Anna. please. I've been waiting for a time to tell you how much I like you, your smile, you eyes, everything. I care a lot about you and I know. you have nothing here. Please. I want you to meet some friends of mine before it's too late."  
  
Anna looked up into his eyes, thoroughly shocked. At everything. Before she could say a word, she cried out, knees buckling. Matt stared in horror as she folded in on herself, her knees coming to the pavement.  
  
"Anna!" he asked in alarm.  
  
"I- I don't know!" She choked. God, what was happening? Did the world decide to just go insane or something? She wondered, heat flooding through her body in an unhealthy fashion.  
  
Matt's mind reeled, trying to figure out her illness.  
  
Unfortunate for Matt, his time had just fun out. Instinct forced his head up, and he watched in abject horror as three dark suited men walked through the steam, their steps silent and slow.  
  
The Agents had him.  
  
Cursing, he knew it was futile to run, he would run anyway. A split second before he stood to flee, his soft grey eyes caught Anna's and he sent a silent apology. He stood to run. His feet leapt out before him, stretching out over the wet ground.  
  
He never made it more than five feet away from her before the bullets exploded and his blood sprayed the ground, his body falling lifeless to the wet pavement. He lay there, bleeding and quivering, praying in his final moments that Anna might be able to escape.  
  
He looked in her general direction, his eyesight failing.  
  
Run, Anna. Now.  
  
The two agents, tall and short, made their way in a leisurely pace to his side. The last one, the one from. the office made his way last and smirked.  
  
"Michael was quite useful under the serum. Though we still need questions answered, he assured us you would be useless in this area." His glasses fogged in the steam. "Therefore, you are useless to us."  
  
Anna stood only to watch a final bullet end the life of her friend. She did not scream. Her mind would not allow it. Emotions like this did not pop through the toughened outer layer of her self. But she did react.  
  
The pain in her mind was blinding.  
  
The pain in her heart was searing.  
  
Therefore, she was not thinking clearly and nothing mattered than the immediate dealing with these emotions.  
  
She ran right at the agent from the office. 


	3. chapter 2

Chapter 2  
  
  
  
Smith looked down calmly at the dead body that was strewn on the ground, the resistant's hand resting limply on a manhole grate. The Agent paused, sending data through his earpiece.  
  
He turned to see a flash of motion.  
  
Anna slammed into the agent after running a dead sprint, her small hands closing around the suited man's neck. Smith was not expecting the attack at all, and was thrown wildly off balance. He fell, his head cracking loudly against the pavement. Anna felt the force of her weight throw them downward, and was pressed harshly against the man as they crashed to the ground. Smith's glasses flew off, revealing his eyes as they screwed tightly shut from what she assumed was pain.  
  
Thunder roared across the sky as a flash of blinding light washed over the pair on the ground. Smith's eyes opened, their intensity alive with shock and anger. The Agent's hands moved calmly to the girl's wrists and hands, which still clutched at the man's neck.  
  
The girl's eyes met his, and before Smith could toss her aside like a rag doll, she cried out without being touched. Her head fell forwards, her brow trembling against his collar bone. Rain suddenly down poured, and the old clock on north ridge began to toll the hour. Smith frowned in confusion as the girl's hands slid from his neck to his shoulders, gripping tightly as his chest absorbed her cries of pain.  
  
At the end of the last bell, midnight was struck and s sizzling shock of electricity jumped from Anna's hand into Smith's shoulder. Smith gasped, a sudden. heat spreading through his body like fire. A dozen foreign sensations demanded his attention. He. was feeling.  
  
Pain.  
  
His head was throbbing from the fall. But that was not unusual. But it was so. intense. More so than anything he'd ever felt at all. His eyes closed.  
  
He felt. the soft skin of the girl lying atop him, his hands still tightly gripping her quivering wrists. The skin was warm and. smooth, tiny hairs ticking his palms.  
  
These were details that the Agent had never felt nor noticed or perhaps never cared about. He felt things. the gravel beneath his back, each chilled raindrop splattering on his face.  
  
And he also felt the quivering girl atop him gasp once, and go limp atop him, her face mashing into his chest lifelessly. A new sensation raced through his blood.  
  
He'd never felt it before. He had no idea what it was. But he didn't like it. It felt cold.  
  
Water getting in his nose, he sat up, his arms wrapping around the dead weight that rested atop him. Blinking rapidly, he decided that he did not enjoy the feeling of water in his eyes. He frowned, very disturbed by these new. sensations. It was as if a new piece of hardware had been installed in his program, though that was not possible. He shook his head, as if he could rid the meddlesome feelings through a simple.  
  
Human action. He stopped in his shake, almost wanting to convulse. Where in the mainframe had that come from? He had just used. a virus's mannerism. He could feel the distaste flowing from the other two agents as they walked forwards towards him. He growled, his posture hostile as he held the unconscious girl. Yet. she felt warm against him. Body warmth. Yes, that was it.  
  
And since when did agents care about body warmth? Smith closed his eyes again, trying to calm his thoughts. Something was wrong with him. Something was very wrong.  
  
"You are acting oddly," Brown said. Jones appeared behind him, touching a hand to his ear. Smith swallowed, his adam's apple rubbing against the crown of the girl's head. It was as if. everything he did, every touch had been. intensified a thousandfold. He was paying attention to sensations he should not be having, and had never had before.  
  
Whatever it was, he didn't want the other agents being. infected by whatever it was. He shut off his end of their connection, though he could still receive. They blinked, but did not respond to the action.  
  
Jones placed a hand to his ear, accessing the mainframe. He frowned upon the return data.  
  
"What?" Smith asked, irritated by the rain dribbling down the back of his neck. He had to keep from twitching in the cold.  
  
Jones knelt beside them, reached out to the prone girl in Smith's lap. The agent's fingers pressed deeply into the girl's neck.  
  
"She's alive," Smith said, as if stating the obvious.  
  
"The mainframe disagrees. She must be a resistant."  
  
Confusion settled in Smith's already unsteady thoughts. "No. Kihn stated specifically whilst under the influence that this woman was not a resistant, but they wanted her to be "out of the matrix" to "better understand her". That is why "Matthew" was taking her with him."  
  
"The resistant could have been lying," Jones pointed out.  
  
"Not possible. If the resistant could lie, he would have lied about this one," Jones responded, nudging the corpse beside them with his foot.  
  
Smith blinked the rain out of his eyes. In his arms, the girl, "Anna", moaned softly.  
  
"If we don't know what she is, we should take her with us. The resistance must have wanted her for some reason. Lets not give them another chance."  
  
  
  
  
  
It was. cold.  
  
Anna shivered, pulling the covers up to chin as she rolled over. Though a hazy half consciousness, she realized that in one day, she would be twenty years old. She smiled softly before sleep reclaimed her.  
  
Smith stood and stared out at the early morning sky. His glasses were on, his suit was dry.  
  
And his hands were shaking. He didn't know why. But he kept them clasped before him so that Jones behind him did not see. He kept his data stream carefully monitored so none of these. things would leak out to either the mainframe or the other agents.  
  
Since last night, he's run at least seventeen different diagnostics over his systems, his file functions and his body.  
  
Nothing. He found nothing out of the ordinary. It was driving him insane. Not only was he trapped in this. zoo, but he was loosing his logic circuits as well.  
  
"Well?" he asked, not moving.  
  
Jones sat rigidly straight in his metal chair, his fingers flying over the keyboard to his computer.  
  
"She must. exist outside the mainframe. There is no other explanation."  
  
"That is not possible," Smith growled.  
  
"She does not read to the computers. Yet she is here. She is alive within the program, yet she is not recognized by the program."  
  
Smith turned sharply, shaking his head. It was insanity. In was disorder and it did not make sense.  
  
Several things an AI did not like.  
  
Smith exited the room and walked across the hallway, into the girl's. A single bed had been provided for her, simple and plain. The room was dark, but Smith was not blind without light. He watched her body quiver, her hands gripping the thin blanket they had provided.  
  
Thus far, they had no idea what ailed the human, since they could not gain access to her from the mainframe. A simple sweeping over her physical manifestation within the matrix proved that she was not broken. But beyond that, they did not know.  
  
The girl whimpered in her sleep.  
  
Curious, Smith stepped forward. The virus was curled away from him, her body trembling. He reached out a hand to touch the girl's neck for a pulse when she rolled over, grabbing the proffered limb.  
  
Her hand was extraordinarily hot to the touch, her grip weak. Her eyes were open, staring up at him.  
  
"Why?" She croaked.  
  
Smith cocked his head. The question had a thousand implications.  
  
"Why is. Why did you." the voice faded away into a strangled gasp, her body going ridged. Smith winced as his hand was squeezed, the sensation far more unpleasant than usual as his jointed snapped.  
  
Anna tensed in pain. That damned light was there again, dancing before her vision. When she opened her eyes again, that. man was sitting on the edge of her bed.  
  
"Get away from me!" She hissed, recoiling.  
  
"I could if I might regain my arm back," Smith replied. Anna glanced down to indeed find his hand clutched by hers.  
  
She released it immediately, almost hissing. "Murderer!" she growled, backing up until her back hit the wall the bed was aligned with. "You /killed/ him!"  
  
Smith frowned. "I was simply doing my job."  
  
"Which is what!? To go out and shoot innocent people?"  
  
"He was not innocent."  
  
"What do you know?" Anna snarled, reaching to slap him. Smith snatched the wrist before her hand could make contact, and pulled her upwards until she slid off the bed. He growled, removing his gun and pointing it at her head.  
  
"I know you are a virus. I know you know about the resistance. And I want to know everything. Right. Now."  
  
"What the fuck are you talking-" She seized, quaking all over. Smith grabbed her waist and dropped her to the floor, his hand around her neck.  
  
"You /will/ tell me what's wrong with you and you /will/ tell me what I want to know!" He roared, anger vibrating through his being. Anna's eyes began to water and they grew wide. She felt. hot. Like warm water was gushing around her insides. Above, Smith was straddling her, one hand on the neck while the other held the gun. It was so hot, she felt like she was going to burst.  
  
She inhaled sharply when she felt herself shock Smith, the energy jumping from her skin to his hand and thighs. Smith's eyes widened behind his glasses and his mouth fell open. Anna held her breath, terrified. What happened?  
  
A low, deep groan escaped the man's throat and he pitched forward, collapsing on her small frame. She lost her breath as his heavy body fell, his chest meeting hers and his head falling beside her own. His hand went limp and the gun clattered uselessly to the ground.  
  
Terrified and pinned, Anna tried to draw breath. The heat inside was still there, but no longer painful or as intense as it had been a moment ago. /Some brain tumor/, she thought as she lay trapped. But, for the first time since she had awoken in this strange place, she was warm. And he smelled good.  
  
Jones and Brown came in, seemingly alarmed. They stopped short of the two, eyes wide.  
  
"What did you do to him?" Brown asked, his voice musical and confused. Jones stomped forwards, grasping Smith's lax frame and hauling him upwards. The Agent dangled lifelessly as Jones heaved the body onto the mussed bed, Smith's legs hanging off the edge.  
  
"Reboot him," Brown said, still eyeing Anna warily, his hand on his gun.  
  
Jones touched Smith's temple, and watched as the other agent twitched violently. Smith's eyes opened, but they were blank. For several moments, they waited, Anna still sprawled out on the floor with a throbbing headache and the other two agents watching Smith.  
  
A low grunt escaped the man's mouth. Smith closed his eyes and opened them again, slowly. His head felt ready to explode, the feeling horribly agonizing and distracting.  
  
Suddenly incredibly angry, Smith sat up and hissed, "Enough with this game, virus. Tell us what you know. NOW." Jones moved back a fraction of an inch, startled by the display of raw emotion.  
  
Anna glared at him, afraid. "I told you. I. don't know. And I wish I did, really, cause' honestly? I think. I'm dying." She looked down. "I don't know what's wrong with me. I don't know why you are doing this. I don't know why you killed my friends and I don't know what the hell the "matrix" even is."  
  
Smith glared at her for a moment, resisting the sudden urge to massage his temples. Another human mannerism threatening to overtake him. He shuddered.  
  
"Your. "friends", Miss Incarus," Smith began in a smooth low tone, pleased his voice sounded nothing like he felt at the moment, "are. were wanted terrorists."  
  
Anna pulled herself into a ball against the wall of the small office. "Terrorists."  
  
"Yes." Smith answered, still sitting on the bed. He felt. fatigued. Which was not possible. He ignored the feeling. "They were attempting to gather more people to their cause."  
  
"Their. cause," Anna parroted, eyes narrowed. The tension in the room could be cut with a knife.  
  
"A cause, that if is made successful, could kill of millions of your people."  
  
Anna snorted. "I'm sure. Matt and Michael were wonderful, caring people. I'm sure they went around trying to destroy the human race all the time."  
  
Unfortunately, when Anna looked up at Smith, she saw only deadly seriousness in his gaze. His glasses now on the floor, his eyes seemed. more human now than the other two, and for a moment she caught herself questioning her friends. She violently shook her head, and cried out after doing so. It was like a migraine had taken over her brain, only this migraine was the worst one in the history of the entire universe.  
  
At this point dawn had broken. Smith was shocked, concerned, worried, and a whole handful of different feelings about the situation. Mostly terrified. Machines were not supposed to be able to feel fatigue. Or rage. Or pain. They were not human beings. They were AI. They were meant to serve. Feelings such as these hindered his work for the mainframe. If they knew. they might destroy him.  
  
Suddenly, something occurred to him. He would rather survive. than be destroyed by the mainframe for his strange mutation. This revelation was incredibly disturbing to Smith. It was his job to serve without question. This was putting his own existence before the mainframe.  
  
What was wrong with him?  
  
Anna disrupted his troubled thoughts. She tried to stand, while clutching at the bridge of her nose.  
  
"I think I need to lie down."  
  
Apparently uncaring about Smith now, she sat heavily beside him, again trembling slightly.  
  
{ Perhaps you should attempt a different method for extracting information. She appears to perhaps have some kind of defense mechanism? } Jones sent.  
  
{ What would you suggest? } Brown inquired, touching his earpiece.  
  
{ Something that does not involve anger. She does not respond well to it. } Brown replied. They looked to Smith, who was staring at the bed with something almost like desire. He turned back to them. Careful not to expose his thoughts, he sent direct messages -  
  
{ Perhaps, if she is important and we are not interrogating her like a resistant, we should attempt something more. human? }  
  
The other two agents stared at him.  
  
{ That is. illogical. } Brown frowned.  
  
{ It is not. We should attempt to access her information by dwelling on her human weaknesses. We cannot hack her if the mainframe cannot see her. } Smith argued wearily.  
  
{ What do you suggest? } Jones asked.  
  
{ I don't know. But this. illness or whatever it is requires her to rest. Leave us. I will stay. Is there not resistant activity in the telecom division that requires our attention as well? } Smith sent.  
  
"What the hell are you people /doing/?" Anna asked, blinking blearily.  
  
Brown and Jones gave Smith one last look, before standing and exiting.  
  
{ We will contact you shortly. }  
  
Smith nodded, though they couldn't see it. What was this. heaviness? Without running a logic algorithm through his mind, he lay back, stifling the exhaling of breath as his head touched the mattress.  
  
"What. have you done to me?" the agent asked softly.  
  
Anna curled up in the corner where the walls and bed met, grabbing a pillow and placing it on her lap, as if it was a barrier between herself and the prone man on the mattress.  
  
"I don't know. I didn't mean to hurt you. Though I am almost glad I did. You murdered my best friend."  
  
Smith's eyelids fluttered, his hand resting on his stomach. "It's my job to protect the mainframe from them. him. my job to protect the humans that live."  
  
"Protect people? How can you protect people if you shoot them?" Her fingers played with the pillow's seems. "He couldn't have been that dangerous. could he?" She asked, for the first time allowing the possibility to float in her mind.  
  
"Very dangerous. " Smith breathed.  
  
"Then. what did he want with me?" Anna inquired, wishing her damned brain ache would just go away as she leaned her head back against the beige wall.  
  
But she received no response. Agent Smith, for all intensive purposes, appeared to have fallen asleep. 


	4. chapter 3

She won't be a Mary-Sue for long. Maybe six more hours. Heh.  
  
  
  
Chapter 3  
  
It was noon before Smith was aware of the world again. It was the most. odd feeling; knowing nothing and then suddenly aware again. It could be compared to being killed or destroyed and then jumping to another host form, but that only lasted a few seconds. As Smith blinked, he felt his body quiver. He pulled the matrix rendering of his muscles to relieve the tension.  
  
The sun was not at an angle for light to pour into the room, but it was far brighter than it had been before. A jumble of messages assaulted him through his still intact earpiece.  
  
{ What's wrong with you? What are you doing? } Brown's voice all but demanded.  
  
{ Perhaps he's running a system diagnostic. } Jones offered.  
  
{ For four hours? }  
  
Smith forced his jaw to tighten. He had been. inactive for four hours? That was unheard of.  
  
{ Yes. I was cleansing out my system, } Smith finally answered, sitting up. { And I need to continue. Have you found the rebel? }  
  
{ Not yet. We have a good idea of his current location. We are advancing. }  
  
{ Very well. Continue as planned. } Smith ended the conversation, avoiding unwanted questions by removing his earpiece.  
  
Across from the bed, the girl was sitting cross-legged on the floor.  
  
"I. remember things. I have been remembering things."  
  
Her voice was soft in the quiet room. Smith regarded her with a raised eyebrow.  
  
Her hair was mussed, some of the golden strands falling before haunted eyes. Her gaze lay on the floor, her hands resting on her bent knees. Her curved back was angled at the corner, sunlight outlining her form from the window above.  
  
Anna lifted her head, her green eyes now sparkling with intensity.  
  
"Why didn't you run?" Smith asked standing and straightening his jacket and cuffs.  
  
Her eyes were expressionless.  
  
"Because I don't think it will make much difference." Her voice was calm and steady, her posture absent of the twitches and nervousness it had held before.  
  
"I can't run. From. this," She waved her hands. "Its perhaps like knowing that you know something, and I don't /want/ to know it. I think that's why I've been drinking and doing drugs and trying to hide from life for so long." She dropped her head, a small smile gracing her lips. "You could kill me. Like you've killed my friends. But for some reason." She lifted her head, "I'm not worried."  
  
Smith sneered. "You are a fool. I am dangerous. I would have no regrets shooting you right now." The agent stood deathly still.  
  
Anna blinked, and then turned to look outside. Below, people were crossing the busy city streets and scrambling to get to that ever so important office meeting. It all seemed so. orchestrated. A limousine turned the corner, running a red and almost crushing a few pedestrians. The car was long and black. Not like the one she was remembering.  
  
"I'm having these. flashbacks," Anna said, her hand rubbing the back of her neck. "I remember things that are not possible."  
  
Smith didn't move. "What do you mean?" This was simple. If only all interrogations worked this well. No serum had even been needed.  
  
Anna's slender nose reflected back at her as her eyes stared at nothing. "I remember people I've never met. Faces. voices. I remember places I've never seen." She turned, facing Smith, arms crossed over her small chest. "I remember driving a green car through the. snow."  
  
Smith quenched the urge to access the mainframe for data on "snow". Instead he spent the extra two minutes searching his own limited data banks. Anna did not more nor speak, her gaze steady.  
  
"Snow." Smith responded, "It does not snow here. It is not in the. climate."  
  
"Yea. I know." She gnawed on her lower lip, thinking. "I don't think I should trust you. Other than the obvious."  
  
"Why?" He asked, monotone.  
  
"Because. its an instinct."  
  
Smith smirked coldly. "Another foolish trait your kind shares. Basing your actions on no prior knowledge is illogical." He suddenly remembered. that she was still human, and not a resistant. She probably would not comprehend why he spoke of her "kind" in such a manner.  
  
Anna did not question him, however. A small smile tugged the corners of her small lips.  
  
"That's where you're wrong."  
  
She turned away, noting she was still clad in her clothing from yesterday. She unbuttoned her dark red cuffs and rolled her sleeves up a little. Smith frowned at the display.  
  
"What would you presume to know about. the matrix?" He asked lowly. It was a risky tactic. But for some reason she seemed not only far more stable than the last night, but also it was as if. something else was taking over her personality. Smith was not built to understand humans, only to kill them and retrieve information. Over time, he came to an understanding of their species, and as a whole, seemed to have a better time reading their body language and mannerisms than other agents. He knew enough to realize she was not acting the same way that she had exhibited earlier. Her posture was straighter, and an air of confidence was trickling into her nonverbal communication.  
  
It was most odd. In his presence, most viruses did the opposite. It irritated him.  
  
Her back was to him as she replied, "I know nothing of the matrix. It sounds like some corny kids TV show. I do know that Matthew said something about it. Therefore I suppose it is relevant." She turned suddenly, her eyebrows creased.  
  
"Who is. Alexander Marcus?"  
  
Smith blinked.  
  
"He was. the creator of Artificial Intelligence." Smith said warily.  
  
"When was he alive?"  
  
Smith narrowed his eyes. "I don't know."  
  
Anna regarded him. Smith met her gaze. They stared for a moment. Smith realized that. she knew he was lying. But she only smiled, turning away.  
  
He didn't like that feeling either.  
  
"I think. I want to leave this place."  
  
Smith didn't move but his voice was commanding. "No. We have use for you."  
  
"No you don't. You don't know what's wrong with my any more than I do. I just know my head doesn't hurt anymore, I'm having some kind of mid life crisis since I'm remembering things that never happened and I want food since I haven't eaten in a really long time. Let me go."  
  
The Agent stiffened. People did not talk to him this way. /Viruses/ did not talk to him this way.  
  
He removed his gun. "You are not leaving." Anna swallowed, for am moment looking unsure. "Don't follow your 'instincts'. It might get you killed."  
  
Anna blinked, her jaw twitching. He was frozen, his gun poised to shoot, aimed at her chest. She closed her eyes, and behind her eyelids, she saw a man. The same man from before, soft silver hair and bright blue eyes. Alexander, Smith had called him. She actually remembered his voice-  
  
"We are building what will shape the world. We have nothing to fear."  
  
She opened her eyes.  
  
"Then can you go with me? I am really hungry." And for the first time in many, many sleepless nights, she did not fear. If he were human, Smith would have gawked. 


	5. chapter 4

Alas, Mary-Sue no more.  
  
  
  
Chapter 4  
  
When Anna stepped onto the crowded city street, for her, time seemed to slow. Her stormy eyes looked, really looked, at the people walking, stumbling, shuffling, running. Her eyes took everyone in, and no one's gaze met hers. Clouds above moved soundlessly in the perfectly blue-gray sky. The sound of traffic underlined the afternoon.  
  
She smiled.  
  
Smith frowned beside her.  
  
He was not pleased with this change in her demeanor. Of the Agents, Smith was the "best" at reading the humans. He noticed and recognized emotions and behaviors the others often missed. If he did not know better from past reference, he would conclude that this was not the same virus that he had seen earlier.  
  
It was disturbing. Anna didn't seem to recognize the Agent's stare as she walked down the crowded street. Smith kept behind her, eyes narrowed behind his glasses.  
  
Anna was debating on her choice for lunch as she waited at a stoplight, when she suddenly felt Smith directly behind her, his breath against her ear.  
  
"You have deceived us. You /are/ resistance." His voice was monotone and cold, she could practically see the sneer on his face.  
  
"The only thing I'm resisting right now is the urge for fast food for lunch. Very unhealthy, you know," she said with a slightly turned head, and proceeded to walk as the light turned green. Smith scowled. How dare a virus have the audacity to show him no fear? Like a puppet, he followed, his displeasure radiating off him in waves. People also crossing the street parted for the two, their eyes on the tall suited man.  
  
"Here," Anna said, stopping suddenly. Smith all but ran into her, his feet scoffing the pavement as she turned and entered a small café. She pushed the glass door open easily, a small jingle emanating from the chimes on the inside. It was a cozy little place, with a homely décor and an open table by the tinted window.  
  
Smith sat there, his eyes active behind his glasses. He watched her graceful movements as she ordered her coffee, watched her snatch a napkin from the counter. For a human, her movements were smooth and efficient, her soft blond hair waving with her movements.  
  
The young woman sat opposite him, her gaze momentarily captured by a man riding his bike outside the window. She sipped her coffee, hissing slightly when the liquid burned her tongue.  
  
"I used to do that a lot," she said randomly. Smith raised an eyebrow.  
  
"Burn my tongue. I had a nasty addiction to coffee in college. Made the mistake of getting a coffee maker instead of a microwave. Never quite recovered."  
  
Smith was still, then he tilted his head up, eyes hidden in the reflected light.  
  
"You never attended college."  
  
"How do you know that?" Anna inquired pleasantly.  
  
"Our records indicated that you worked with Mr. Kihn for 2 year prior to our meeting. You would not have had time to go to college."  
  
"Ah," she responded, licking her lips. She briefly closed her eyes.  
  
The moment stretched. Smith watched the steam roll off the coffee cup, eerily distorting Anna's face. A green haze seemed to cloud the room for a moment. The door jingled again, and the steam cleared.  
  
She opened her eyes and smiled.  
  
"It's my birthday right now."  
  
She seemed disappointed when he said nothing. "It's significant you know. Ah well. A pity things had to work out this way. I don't believe I've ever had such an unlucky twentieth birthday. In the company of agents. Good lord."  
  
Smith cocked his head slightly, his rigid poster moving with the motion. "As far as it seems possible, this has been your only twentieth birthday."  
  
She chuckled, sipping her coffee. "Of course."  
  
The agent ground his teeth. "I find your current display of interaction most aggravating. Explain your behavior."  
  
Anna's eyebrow twitched. "That's a rather rude way to ask a question," she replied, sitting back. "But unfortunately, I do think it's time I go. It's been a far too. hectic few days. I'm sure you'd be pleased to get rid of me and continue on with your. job." Anna stood, glancing down at herself and wincing. She needed a shower.  
  
Without another word, she walked away.  
  
The agent was not pleased. Not at all. Smith felt anger burning in what should be his veins. Enough. He stood sharply, following the damned human out of the café.  
  
His steps were loud in Anna's ears as she calmly made her way across a busy intersection and into a lonely alleyway. She could practically hear his arrogant snort when she made such a dangerous move as to make her way alone in a secluded area. She had to give him credit, she didn't hear him behind her until his low, angry grow entered her ears.  
  
Smith drew his gun and spun her, her body thudding as she hit the brick wall of the alley. His large hand braced her shoulder, gripping painfully as he drew his gun with his other hand, the barrel now touching her temple.  
  
"Tell me," he hissed.  
  
"I'm not afraid of you, Smith. Not anymore."  
  
"I /know/," the agent said lowly, his eyes icy behind his sunglasses. "You are behaving abnormally. You are acting. foolishly." He cocked the gun, his long finger tense on the trigger.  
  
"Tell me now."  
  
"What do you want to know?"  
  
"You are resistance," he spat, "It was convincing at first, I admit. But I grow tired of this little game."  
  
"I agree. You were rather tired this morning. coincidence, Agent? I didn't know you guys even could sleep." Anna's eyes held a sparkle of amusement. Smith growled angrily.  
  
"You know what I am. You are resistance. Tell me your name, rank, serial and post. Tell me now."  
  
Anna sighed, wincing as his thumb dug into her collarbone. "I am not resistance, Smith."  
  
He growled angrily, pressing the barrel harshly against her temple. "You exist outside the matrix. You are lying."  
  
Anna smiled then, her eyes looking downwards for a brief moment. When she looked up again, her gray eyes bore into his without fear.  
  
"What is the matrix, Agent Smith?"  
  
The moment was strangely awkward for the agent. The girl was a foot shorter than he was, his chin even with her brow. They were standing fairly close together, though the embrace was single-sided and hostile. The agent's neck tendons twitched slightly.  
  
"The matrix is what you wish to destroy."  
  
Anna smiled, a soft warm smile. "That is absolutely not the truth." Smith hissed, pressing himself against her body. Her eyes widened at the unexpected contact, as she felt his lean body crush her into the wall.  
  
"I am. tired. of this game. Tell me who and what you are," he said ever so lowly through clenched teeth, "tell me what you did to me and tell me. how to fix it."  
  
"You don't like having a virus's 'frailties'? Why am I not surprised. After all, the mainframe views emotion and physical need as a weakness."  
  
She could feel Smith tense against her. "What do /you/ know of the mainframe?"  
  
Anna's eyes gazed into his own, and for the first time Smith thought he saw a glimmer of code in her stormy green irises. That was very abnormal. Normally code was not visible to those within the matrix. He frowned.  
  
The girl seemed to be contemplating something, her brow furrowed. His hips were still holding her securely in place, his gun still level. Hopefully for her own sake she wasn't considering running. She would surely die by his hand.  
  
"Do you believe in the mainframe, Smith? Do you believe that emotion is weakness? That all beings with emotion are inferior?"  
  
"Yes," he answered.  
  
"Well. Seeing that I've already had terrible luck with you, let's push the envelope. Besides. I think. I think you could be something. Of course, its very dangerous. for me." Anna looked upwards, "but I swear if something doesn't change, I /will/ loose my mind."  
  
Smith's brow furrowed, confusion flecking across his blue eyes. "What are you talking about?"  
  
Anna's hands were not bound by the agent, and she reached up to his sides, her fingers pressing against his perfectly tailored suit. Her palms spread themselves against his ribs and his side.  
  
Smith hissed again, finger tensing dangerously against the trigger, his grip on her shoulder intensifying and growing quite painful. Enough.  
  
As Smith began to pull the trigger, the world hazed over. All he could see were those eyes.  
  
"Know touch, Smith. Know touch and taste, smell and sound. Know it like you've never known it before."  
  
The agent was immobile, his processors all but stopped, externally only his auditory and visual programs running, and even then those were growing increasingly unstable. His mind was assaulted as a heat surged into his programming, a thousand little pinpricks invading his functions and files. Smith gasped at the feeling of violation. He'd never known anything like it. Alien Algorithms were streaming into his databanks, filling gaps that didn't even exist and tying synapses together that had never been bound. His world was shattered as a mass wall of sensation bore down on him.  
  
A small breath was exhaled from the agent.  
  
"This is only the beginning."  
  
He could hear her, but she wasn't speaking.  
  
"Question who you are. And feel more than tactile sensation. feel this 'weakness'. Introduce yourself to your most hated enemy. Its name is emotion. And it's yours."  
  
If he were human, he would have screamed.  
  
"And if you tell your 'mainframe'. your existence will end. Is that what you really want? Hide, Smith. Hide what you are or be destroyed."  
  
Fire ripped through his sub processors and Smith collapsed into oblivion.  
  
  
  
Smith woke to footsteps echoing in the alleyway.  
  
He felt. ill.  
  
Hands were on his back, hauling him upwards. He felt his head loll against a hard surface. He felt his body throbbing with.  
  
{ pain:/- nerves sending signals to the brain expressing discomfort and damage }  
  
And it was. horrible. Basic processors were not yet online, and already he was confused.  
  
[ Smith ] a voice chirped at him. He swallowed, suddenly aware of the lack of saliva in his parched throat. It was. Brown.  
  
[ Smith ] the musical voice requested again. [ Either reboot or come online. ]  
  
With an incredible effort, Smith opened his eyes. The scanned the immediate area, and he found Jones standing beside him, and Brown crouched to eye level. They had brought him to lean on the brick wall of the alleyway.  
  
"What happened?" Jones rumbled from above. Smith clenched his jaw, painfully aware of his surroundings.  
  
He felt. anger. And rage at this... violation of his files. But for the first time in his existence.  
  
Smith felt fear.  
  
If his colleges knew what had happened how his files had been. corrupted, mutated, they would destroy him. For the good of the mainframe and for efficiency.  
  
Smith did not want that.  
  
He wanted to. live. Exist. And find that damned virus-heathen woman and get her to fix whatever the hell she had done.  
  
Unfortunately, his current attentions should be focused on not. 'throwing up' was the term? His matrix-created rendition of his stomach rolled and Smith stifled a groan. It was not unnoticed by Jones.  
  
"Lets go back to headquarters. You need to perform maintenance on yourself."  
  
Smith could not agree more. 


	6. chapter 5

Ok. I usually don't say this, but for a new genre of fiction that I'm playing with, feedback really is needed or I'm like hey, and I doing this right?  
  
  
  
Chapter 5  
  
  
  
It was raining again. The drops tapped gently against the windowpane in the darkness, one after another without rest.  
  
Smith's eyes were closed behind his sunglasses, his mind drifting away from the task at hand. They were tightly shielded from his comrades, a metal blockade protecting these vile thoughts.  
  
He was tired, again.  
  
He inhaled a breath of air into the matrix representation of his lungs. He turned around, away from the large office window and towards the man sitting chained to a chair. He was a scruffy man, his blond hair jutting out in eighty directions and stubble gracing across his chin and neck. The man's head was leaning backwards in a more grotesque pose, his eyes white and open. Blood dripped up his face, trailing like backwards tears to his hairline. It was making a mess. Jones was unlocking the cuffs while Brown made the appropriate arrangements.  
  
Smith straightened his jacket, the front damp from spittle. This had been a most. crude resistant, and the interrogation had not resulted in any useful information. He made a disgusted face when his thumb brushed past the dampness on his chest. Smith looked sideways to find Jones staring at him with an unearthly glare.  
  
"What?" Smith growled lowly. Jones said nothing, but stood and marched up to the windowpane behind them. Smith stayed put, their backs to each other.  
  
"You've been quiet."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"With the mainframe. Asking less questions than previous months. Involving yourself with the resistance less." Jones turned around, but Smith did not.  
  
"Perhaps you need maintenance," Jones suggested while Smith's jaw locked in a grimace. "You've spent many hours in solitary confinement in your quarters. Many hours. performing diagnostics."  
  
"I'm fine." Smith answered, looking over his shoulder at the other agent, a sliver of his eye visible between his cheek and the frameless glasses. "The mainframe hasn't said otherwise."  
  
With that, Smith abruptly took his leave, leaving a frowning Jones in his wake.  
  
  
  
Three buildings down, a standard government door opened to reveal a standard government VIP suite, with a standard VIP bed, desk, and dresser. A standard agent hand reached up and disconnected a standard agent earpiece.  
  
And then the standard agent collapsed on the bed with a groan.  
  
Reveling in the feel of the comforter against his suit, Smith lay there unmoving, until a lethargic hand reached up and removed his sunglasses.  
  
It had been four months since this hell began.  
  
Four months ago, he stumbled upon a resistant named Incarus. Then it all went to hell.  
  
For four long months, Smith had devised ways to encrypt his inner thoughts from the mainframe and the other agents. He'd learned how to separate what was plausible for an agent to think, feel, and know-  
  
And what wasn't. Unfortunately, since his. additions, those new feelings and thoughts corrupted the majority of his logic circuits. Over and over, he tried to rid himself of the cancer that had taken over his life. He'd run self diagnostics and viral scans until he'd literally passed out.  
  
Another new aspect of his life. Exhaustion. Now, his programming required that he be in a restful state for at least 12 hrs per 48 hrs or else his file functions would begin to degrade. He took his leave when he could get it, and usually placed himself in powersave until he "woke", feeling refreshed.  
  
It was most absurd.  
  
Also, he'd actually created new programming and algorithms to cope with the insane amount of information being recorded from his digital self. Every feeling, taste, smell, sense was always active, all the time. It was nauseating., and before he had created the proper filters, his performance had declined considerably, almost earning him a directly linked conference with the mainframe. This was to be avoided at all costs, lest they realize what. mutated virus he had become.  
  
Though he found it quite intriguing. to cope with the newfound algorithms, he'd. created. Created the new filtering program, created the new encryption. And he was not a maker. He'd done it on his own.  
  
Out of all this mess, that was perhaps a small, satisfying thing to know.  
  
If only he could make things be the way they were before. His existence had been more than unpleasant, mostly because of the viruses, but he had not been burdened with all. this. But the new files that had integrated into his programming were seemingly plastered to his hardwire.  
  
He was trapped like this. Smith twitched.  
  
There had been one other option. Find Incarus and make the damned virus fix whatever she had broken.  
  
On perhaps the third day of his infection, he'd returned to Anna Incarus's small apartment to find it empty of the young woman. He'd kept close surveillance on the building for days, weeks. and she never returned. He'd searched her over the entire matrix, and he couldn't find her.  
  
It was as if she had just disappeared, which confirmed his suspicions that she was resistance. Still. if the resistance had this kind of technology to incapacitate agents, why weren't they using it?  
  
The agent sighed, his cheek falling to rest on the comforter. And then all he knew was darkness.  
  
  
  
The three agents moved swiftly through the abandoned warehouse, as Smith ground his teeth.  
  
"We've lost him." Brown stated bluntly.  
  
"Again. That was the second time he has managed to evade us," Smith said disapprovingly. The agents made ready to depart when a clanking of metal sounded their attention. Smith sneered.  
  
The machines threw the debris out of the way, rotting planks of wood were tossed aside like toothpicks. There. A small alcove was hidden in the side of the dark wall, and inside was a small figure, curled up on itself and shuddering. Smith knelt, reaching out to yank the resistant out of the hiding space, when his fingers touched the slick heat of blood.  
  
He hesitated, and at a far gentler pace, tugged the human outwards. Brown narrowed his eyes.  
  
They pulled out a small, thin boy, perhaps six years old.  
  
"What is this?" Jones inquired. The boy's eyes were clamped shut, his entire body shaking in fear.  
  
"Who are you?" Smith asked in a soft monotone. The boy's huge eyes opened to reveal two white orbs. The child was blind.  
  
"Are you them?" The virus asked, his voice shrill and pitiful. "They told me you would come for me and. kill me."  
  
"Who told you?"  
  
"The man on the phone."  
  
"Then he was correct," Brown responded, drawing his gun. Smith hesitated again, the boy cowering behind his crouched form.  
  
"P-please, I didn't do anything, I didn't even know what I was doing, I thought the matrix was a new video game, I-" the child stammered, gripping Smith's arm. The AI blinked at the idea of the virus hiding behind him, as if it expected him to protect his life. The child looked up at him, it's shaved head promoting how incredibly large his eyes were. Despite the grim and filth on his body, Smith did not throw him off. The agent swallowed.  
  
"Let's not," He said aloud to the other two AI. Jones blinked.  
  
"Why?" Brown inquired again, confused.  
  
"Lets take to headquarters and see who this "man on the phone" is."  
  
"That is irrelevant. We know who it was."  
  
Smith said nothing. The boy let go of him, trying to stand. His frail arms waved in front of his face frantically-  
  
As Brown fired, the child's head shooting blood all over Smith's glasses and face.  
  
Silence filled the large building, only the night's dripping rain filling the air.  
  
"I will contact the mainframe. You require maintenance that cannot be completed by yourself." Brown tuned, replaced his gun in its holster, and left. Jones, hesitated, then followed. Smith simply sat on the damp floor, blood dripping off his face and wondered. illogically. why the virus had to die. And then he realized. that he would probably be joining his young friend here within the hour. The mainframe would destroy him. It was over.  
  
He looked down at the body for a moment before walking away, one shaky hand wiping the blood from his mouth and face. He didn't need to, for as soon as he swung the old steel door open and stepped into the street, the rain saturated his face and clothing, as if to cleanse him.  
  
Wonderful. The last of his transformations. He was thinking in metaphors.  
  
Smith walked rather heavily down the alleyway as he removed his sunglasses. It was a wonder, everything. The perfection. The system. All a wonder.  
  
He paused, leaning against the side of a brink building, not caring what it did to his suit.  
  
"Hey there, handsome."  
  
Smith jumped, twisting around. Sitting to his left on several stacked creates, was a familiar face.  
  
"Incarus," Smith breathed, a swarm of emotions claiming him. Anger, rage, and perhaps hope. He would have noticed her had she been there ten seconds before. Where did she come from?  
  
Anna chuckled. She was slouched, her hands clasped on her thighs. Clad in a dark outfit, she seemed to meld into the alleyway. Smith checked the urge to run at her and pin her to assure himself she would not get away and leave him to his death.  
  
"I'm not going anywhere."  
  
"Oh. So you can read my mind now, can you? Another side affect of your infection?" He hissed.  
  
Anna raised an eyebrow. "That's not a very effective way to ask for my help, Smith."  
  
Smith growled, looking away. A faint pounding sound could be heard in the distance. He swallowed. He knew that sound. He'd been making it for years.  
  
"Where were you?"  
  
"Waiting."  
  
"For what?"  
  
"You."  
  
Smith looked at her, really looked. He was stunned to realize that she was not wet. The rain seemed to be passing right through her.  
  
She looked down, smiling softly. "I just don't like to get wet. And I didn't think you'd do it, actually. I thought you'd be killed before you felt it."  
  
"Felt what," the AI said lowly.  
  
The girl chuckled, motioning him to approach the crates. "I wouldn't help a selfless bastard, you know," She said, scooting back so she leaned against the damp alley wall. Smith scowled, angered that she dare accuse him of feeling.  
  
"Compassion," She supplied, folding her arms behind her head. "Don't worry. I'll always see you for the murdering heartless agent you are. Now. Do you want to be terminated?"  
  
He hesitated, listening to the approaching pounding of footsteps.  
  
".No."  
  
Anna looked upwards, her short hair fluffy despite the rain. "Do you trust me?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Hmm. Well then I think you're in trouble. Lesson one. You can't survive alone, not anymore. Yet, you now have not only sentience, but an understanding of something greater than the mainframe. You know that if you are terminated, it's all over. And you fear it. Like every other living creature."  
  
He pressed himself against the wall, the urge to run sparking inside him.  
  
"If you run, you'll die."  
  
They stared at each other. "You should know them, Smith. They're agents. They'll catch you."  
  
"What do I have to do?"  
  
"Trust me."  
  
He scowled again, blinking in the wet air. They were almost here.  
  
". I won't harm you, Smith. I never did. I only opened your eyes."  
  
The AI scrambled for ideas. This wasn't just running from agents. This would be running from the mainframe itself. There was no hiding.  
  
"What. do I have to do?"  
  
"Come here."  
  
Anna held out a hand from her reclined position atop the wooden structure.  
  
The footsteps ricocheted over the cement.  
  
Smith jumped, lunging forward and climbing the crates until he was reaching, reaching for that hand.  
  
And when he grabbed it, it was warm.  
  
She pulled him upwards, his momentum carrying him to the top. He slipped, sliding to the crate's edge until Anna tightened her grip and pulled the sopping agent against her. He felt his dampness soak into her dry clothing as Jones and Brown tore into the alleyway. Anna's hand snaked up his cheek to his lips, sealing his mouth. He froze, his sunglasses lying on the pavement below.  
  
They stopped by the discarded frames, Jones leaning down and picking them up. Brown looked around, looked /right/ at them.  
  
"Where is he?"  
  
Smith's mouth fell open behind her hand. She smirked behind him.  
  
"Inquire the mainframe." Jones commanded. Brown obeyed. and looked up.  
  
"He is. gone." 


End file.
